Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 260 Life is about wasting lots and lots of time
"I'll tell you later."

Cohen put the basket containing Mr. Flandre into his camel-skin pouch—pointing at a "sleeping kitten" in the auditorium was a bit too conspicuous:
“Earl, wait for me at the House of Requirement.”

“What’s wrong with Mr. Frondo? And didn’t you just mention… Mr. Wernher von Braun—” Harry asked uneasily, watching Cohen extend the basket under the table, “Our second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts substitute professor?”

“I wrote him a letter, but he hasn’t replied, so I asked the Earl to check on things,” Cohen said briefly. “It seems something happened to him—Frando also had an accident when he went to see him.”

After quickly finishing his breakfast, Cohen hurriedly left the auditorium.

Harry and his friends didn't need to get involved in the matter of the silver key—Harry was able to escape unscathed from dealing with Voldemort only because of their "special relationship," but the silver key was a completely different story for Harry.
-
"I took Flandre to the house of Wernher von Braun."

Inside the house, where every request was granted, the count said uneasily,
"Then I sent Flandre to scout ahead, because it was so quiet there was like an ambush—so it shouldn't be in any real trouble... But I waited and waited and it didn't come out, so I went in myself—"

“You know this is dangerous, right?” Cohen looked at the Earl.

Isn't the Count always talking badly about Flandre?

She really does have a sharp tongue but a soft heart...

“That’s better than just waiting outside,” the count said. “The inside is unbelievably normal—no scratches, no signs of an explosion, just like a normal house.”

“The most abnormal thing is that a missing person’s home is so normal,” Cohen said. “I remember Wernher von Braun also had a father who was somewhat demented—”

“Old von Braun is fine.” The Count shook his head. “He doesn’t live with von Braun anymore, as if von Braun already knew he would encounter this danger. So what’s Frando’s condition now, and can you treat him?”

Frondo's current situation is as if someone has extracted the cat's soul and trapped it somewhere.

Destroying a soul is easy, but trapping one is not so simple—especially for a wizard.

To go to such lengths to perform such complicated magic on a cat...

Who would want to go to that dangerous place to rescue a cat's soul?

"Should I not have brought Flandre there..." For the first time, the Count lost his usual imposing manner.

“I thought you would be relieved that Mr. Flando is leaving.” Cohen narrowed his eyes.

"Because it's my longest-standing friend!" the Count said angrily. "All those things I said before were just because it can't die—damn it, I should have just grabbed my wand and rushed in, cast a stunning spell on every wizard I saw—that way it wouldn't have died—"

“It’s not dead, its soul has just been captured,” Cohen said calmly. “Wizards have very few and very difficult ways to capture souls, so the guy who kidnapped Frondo’s soul must be very powerful.”

"You can even eat souls." The Count instantly calmed down when he heard that Flandre could be saved. "So... Flandre is still alive, right? There's still hope?"

“That’s how I see it,” Cohen nudged the cat in the basket. “And they clearly didn’t need to run away after capturing Frondo’s soul—they could have just taken you with them.”

“But I didn’t see anyone,” the count said, tilting his head.

“That’s the problem. They need a messenger. They need to make sure that Flandre’s soulless shell gets sent back to me.” Cohen snorted. “Not very damaging, but extremely insulting. They’re waiting for me to catch up.”

"..." The count remained silent for a moment, as if he was thinking about something.

“But it doesn’t matter. I’m really curious to see what they plan to do to me after I get there,” Cohen said. “Dare to touch my cat—” “You can’t go,” the Earl suddenly said.

"?" Cohen looked at the Earl with a puzzled expression.

“That’s clearly a trap; you can’t go through it.” The count made his decision. “You are more important than that cat…”

“I’m very touched,” Cohen said. “But it’s a pity, you’re my pet, I don’t have to listen to you.”

"You son of a bitch—" the count exclaimed, jumping up and down in frustration.

"Hey."
-
The situation on Frondo's side wasn't even that urgent—if the silver key was meant to lure Cohen over there, its soul should have remained safely alive so that Cohen could follow the connection between Frondo's soul and body to find the right place.

If Frondo's soul perishes, Cohen won't be able to follow that connection to the right place, and the group of silver keys who want to lure Cohen back in time won't get their way.

The team under attack pressure should be the one with the silver key.

Are you in a hurry?

Therefore, Cohen's main goal now is still to welcome Voldemort's resurrection.

"here……"

In the afternoon, Voldemort arrived as promised. Looking at the drastically changed room filled with alchemical instruments, he deeply felt the extent of Cohen's efforts to resurrect him.

but……

Foolish child! Lord Voldemort is just using you!

"Where is the body..." Voldemort asked in a low voice.

There were several areas in the room covered by white sheets, and Cohen was standing in the middle of the room. Underneath the white sheet next to him, he looked rather short—Voldemort thought this might be the height of the body sitting on the ground—it couldn't be that the new body Cohen created for him was only four feet tall...

“Wait, I want to make it a little more ceremonial.” Cohen mysteriously grabbed a corner of the white cloth. “This took me a lot of effort.”

"Bang bang bang!" Cohen suddenly pulled back the white sheet.

"..." Voldemort stared at what was under the white sheet, unsure of what to say.

"What's wrong? Don't you think this product is interesting?" Cohen asked dejectedly.

"Are you here to ** too?" The toilet seat lowered itself, as if welcoming Voldemort—but it obviously didn't notice that Voldemort didn't even have a physical body now, and could only attach himself to objects or creatures that were willing to let him possess him.

"Are you bored?" Voldemort asked through gritted teeth.

“Childhood is a time when you have plenty of time to waste,” Cohen said matter-of-factly. “The meaning of life is to spend half your time eating and sleeping, and then spend a lot of time chasing butterflies and dogs on the street—until in the end, the butterflies and dogs are all dead, and your time is wasted too…”

(End of this chapter)